On The Run
by tilleygirl
Summary: Marshall and Mary on the lam from the bad guys.
1. Chapter 1 Trusting

****Many thanks to Bujyo for her beta skills***

Chapter 1 – Trust Me

Marshall grabbed Mary roughly by her upper arm and pulled her against him, backing up against the retaining wall along the promenade walkway. The wall was interspersed with hanging ivy. Benches were placed intermittently along the length of the promenade. It was meant as an area of enjoyment, relaxation. The irony wasn't lost on Marshall.

"Trust me?" he asked in a low, almost panicky voice, his eyes scanning the promenade, sharpening as he spotted the two men. He looked back down at Mary, took in her frightened face. "They only saw you from the front right? Not from the back?" She nodded sharply, barely concealed panic in her eyes.

"Trust me?" he asked again, softer this time. Another silent nod. Did he really need to ask? She trusted this man with...everything. Marshall curled one arm around her waist, drawing her in close to him. Placing his lips against her ear, he whispered, "Look to your right, see those couples along the wall? This is a bit of a make out spot. Just go with me on this. I'm going to protect your face." I'm going to protect all of you, he thought, as he brought his other hand up to the back of her head. He leaned down, keeping an eye over her shoulder on the two men.

One of the men was tall, thin, dark. He wore dark sunglasses and his black hair was spiked with gel. The other man was shorter, more husky, blond. He had a goatee and a noticeable scar on his cheek, that extended down into his beard. They were moving through the promenade with purpose, professionally inspecting each person they saw, evaluating, dismissing and moving on.

Mary leaned into Marshall instinctively, a slight shiver running down her spine as she felt his warm breath on her, and wondered what he was going to do. Marshall kept his mouth by her ear, his head blocking her face from casual looks. He kept a sharp eye on the two men as they walked towards them. His hand casually gathered up Mary's braids and drew them over her shoulder. She stiffened slightly. "Don't pull away," he murmured. "They're heading towards us." He dropped his eyes and nuzzled her neck as the two men started looking at the necking couples along the wall.

"Marshall, just what the hell do you think you're doing? " Mary hissed in his ear. "We are not horny teenagers." Marshall could feel the pounding of her heart, heard her ragged breathing, underneath the irritated words. He began slowly rubbing her back, trying to calm her down, trying not to notice how very nice she felt pressed against him. Well, she was right about one thing. They weren't teenagers. He couldn't vouch for the other thing.

"I am trying to keep you alive," he said in a measured voice against her ear.

She had been badly rattled. People trying to get you dead will do that to a person. Chancing a quick glance up, he saw the tall, thin, dark man looking intently at the couple closest to them. The woman was blond. Marshall sucked in his breath and Mary looked at him in alarm. He smiled reassuringly down at her, mouthed 'trust me', and brought his hand up to the side of her face, covering the curve of her cheek and jaw. He could feel the attention of the tall, dark man shifting over towards them. Marshall closed the distance between his mouth and Mary's, lightly pressing his lips to hers. He felt the shock tremble through her body and he drew her even closer to him, slightly shifting her so her face would be more hidden.

The attention of tall and dark focused on them and Marshall gave a firm squeeze to her waist in warning, then opened her mouth with his tongue and deepened the kiss. Mary felt her knees almost buckle from the shock. Marshall's arm was securely around her, keeping her upright. Trying to remember there were men trying to kill her and Marshall was trying to prevent that, she allowed the kiss, hesitantly returned the thrust of his tongue, as she felt the stare of the man behind her. _I can _not _believe I am doing this, letting Marshall French me._

She felt the tension in Marshall's body, ready to take a defensive stance should tall and dark make a move. He kissed her again, then again, the feel of it changing slightly, becoming more assertive, more heart felt. Mary found she liked the sensation of his arms around her. After the fear of the last few days, it gave her a few seconds of security. Marshall would do anything to protect her. Anything. Without making a conscious decision, she opened her mouth to him voluntarily. He felt the difference and responded, the kiss leaving the realm of deceptive ploy and entering a new, unknown place. Deep seated feelings were rising to the surface, driven by fear, stress, uncertainty. Mary wound her arms around his neck, returning his kiss rather more enthusiastically than he expected. He tasted good, that was unexpected. And he definitely knew what he was doing.

Reluctantly raising his head and breaking the kiss, Marshall looked around quickly. Tall and dark had moved on. Where was blond and husky? Marshall lowered his head again, his warm mouth trailing down her neck. "I don't see blondie," he murmured, barely moving his lips. Mary's hand moved up, started stroking the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Where's the other one?" she asked. Marshall tried to keep his body in line, as Mary's gentle caress continued. Pulling self control up from down in his socks, he chanced another look in tall and dark's direction. He was standing by another couple along the wall, and motioning blondie over to him. As he watched, tall and dark reached out to pull the guy away from the blonde woman against the wall. Marshall grasped Mary's hand and pulled.

"Time to go. Not too fast." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her head down on his shoulder as they started walking in the other direction. She tried to lift her head back up, but he kept an iron grip on her.

"Don't," he warned. "Glare at me later please," he said in response to the murderous look she tossed his way, "after we get out of their line of sight." Mary glared at him now. She did not like being told what to do. On the other hand, she didn't like getting shot at either.

They ducked down the first cross sidewalk they came to, quickly breaking into a run once they were off the promenade. After putting six blocks between them and their pursuers, they slowed down, Marshall furiously thinking. They needed to get off the street. They were in a residential neighborhood now. Several homes had signs indicating they had rooms to let.

Marshall carefully studied three of the houses, picked one with a neat front yard and colorful window boxes. No toys in the yard, so likely no children. This was an older neighborhood. The homes were small. There were several small maintenance projects that needed to be done, so the owner was likely a widow. Or had a lazy husband. Lace curtains in the windows pointed to an older woman. That's what he wanted, someone who wouldn't be too curious.

He pointed at the house, looked at her with a question in his eyes. She turned an appraising eye on the little house. "Dammit Marshall, I'm tired of this, running from those traitorous ass wipes." She grimaced, "This place is fine." He nodded and told her to wait on the porch as he rang the bell. An older woman answered the door, smiled pleasantly. Marshall asked about the room and learned it was available. Going inside with her to see the room, he informed Mrs. Salter that his wife wasn't feeling well and would wait outside until she could lay down. Mary tapped her foot impatiently, while carefully keeping her face averted, realizing that should anyone come around asking questions, she didn't want their hostess to have a good description of her.

Marshall came out to retrieve her, once again wrapped his arm around her and tucked her head into his shoulder. He hoisted the backpack he had managed to hold onto and led Mary into the small house. The room was on the first floor and Mrs. Salter had already opened the door.

"Let me know if you need anything," she said solicitously. "How far along are you dear?" Mary started to raise her head in bewilderment, but Marshall kept her firmly in place.

"Eight weeks. It's been a bit rough. We'll be fine, thank you." He shut the door behind them, released Mary. They stared at each other.

"She made an assumption and I let her. It may be helpful. You can stay hidden without undue suspicion and if questions are asked, she'll say her renters are an expecting married couple." Mary acknowledged the logic of his thinking, while simultaneously bristling at the thought of staying hidden. She shut her eyes and rubbed her temples.

_Good Lord, how did this happen?_


	2. Chapter 2 An Invitation

Chapter 2 – An Invitation

Three days earlier ~~~

Mary breezed into the office, humming a tune from the radio. She was in a good mood. Raph had made her breakfast this morning, and the sex last night... just incredible. Her smile faded slightly as Marshall looked up at her quizzically, silently offering her a cup of coffee he had picked up at Starbucks. Plain and strong, with one sugar, the way she liked it. She was beginning to feel slightly guilty, when she saw Marshall after a night with Raph. Like he knew somehow. Damn man probably did know. He was uncanny that way. He never said anything, but it felt like disapproval somehow. Well, she guessed she could have sex with her own fiancé if she wanted to. She took the coffee from him with a tight smile, her fingers brushing his. He withdrew his hand and returned his attention to his computer screen. No quips, no arcane bits of trivia. Maybe the disapproval was actually disappointment tinged with jealousy? Or maybe he was just pissed he wasn't getting any. _Yes, let's go with that._ Not so uncomfortable to think about.

Mary sat down at her desk and turned on her computer, quickly scanning through her emails. There was one from the Fugitive Task Force that caught her eye. Asking for her help on transport of a fugitive. She frowned. They had their own people for things like that and any request of this nature should go through Stan. She forwarded the email to him and stuck her head in his office.

"Morning Stan." He looked up and nodded. "Take a look a look at the email I just sent you. It's from the FTF." Stan quickly read through it and frowned.

"It's from the New York/Jersey regional office. Your old stomping grounds. But why would they be asking for you? They are very short on details. Let me make a few calls. It's not like them not to follow protocol. This should have come through me."

Mary shrugged and returned to her desk and her rapidly cooling coffee. Taking a sip, she glanced over at Marshall. She could see the slight tension in his body. One of these days, they were going to have to address the increasing tension between them and the source of it. Marshall's changing feelings. Mary's engagement to Raph. But not yet. She wasn't up to it.

Stan came out of the office after lunch and pulled a chair over to Mary's desk. Running a hand over his smooth head, Mary could see the frustration in his face. "I've been on the phone all morning with the Jersey office. They assure me everything is above board, but something doesn't feel right. It took some time to track down the marshal in charge of the transfer, guy by the name of Cliff Hauptner. You familiar with him?"

Mary thought a moment, but didn't recall anyone by that name from her time working with the FTF. She shook her head, noticing that Marshall was listening intently.

"Well, he specifically asked for you. Wasn't interested in any other marshals in Albuquerque or apparently in Jersey. This transfer is not of a witness. It doesn't make sense. But the ADA up there got on the phone, like he just happened to be there when I called, and said that due to your, and I quote, 'stellar service record and dedication to her witnesses', they want you and no one else for this transfer."

A scowl crossed her face as she considered the odd request. Something felt off, she didn't like it. "I'm going to make a few calls to a couple colleagues, see what they know about this Hauptner."

Mary called Martin Souros, a co-worker from the Newark office, who didn't totally piss her off. After a minute of catch-up talk, she cut to the chase, asking him about Hauptner.

"Hauptner?" he asked in surprise. "Well, he's a good marshal, as far as I know. Been here for several years. Nothing that really stands out about him. He keeps to himself, doesn't hang out at the water cooler. Why do you ask?"

Mary carefully responded, "He's made a request for me to assist on a prisoner transfer. Has he been asking around about me?"

Martin was clearly surprised. "Well, no, not that I'm aware of. Doesn't make sense for him to ask for you, or anybody else out of the area. Hold on a sec." Mary heard him call over to another person apparently named Brian. A low voiced conversation ensued, then Martin came back on the line. "I just checked with Brian. He worked an op with Hauptner about a year ago. Said he was competent, professional. He had no worries about working with him."

"Thanks Martin, I appreciate it." Mary hung up and sat back, processing the information she had been given. She told Stan and Marshall what she had learned from Martin. "Guess it won't hurt to spend a day up there," she said reluctantly. She looked over to Marshall. "Up for a trip to beautiful downtown Newark?"

Stan forestalled him, shaking his head. "They want Mary only." Marshall stood up, walked over to them, his blue eyes turned steely gray. He was like a panther stalking its prey; lean, fast, deadly. His protective mode was becoming more pronounced. They would have to talk about that too.

He focused intently on Mary and spoke very quietly. "Not going to happen." Stan and Mary looked at him in surprise, Mary starting to work up some indignation. Marshall held out a hand, palm up. "Something is wrong here. Stan feels it too. What if she says no?"

Stan shifted uneasily in his chair. "I already vetoed permission for her to go. I was over-ruled. I got a call from my superiors within ten minutes of hanging up with Jersey. Mary is being ordered to go – alone. You weren't cleared to go Marshall. "

Marshall looked at the two of them, Mary becoming pissed off, Stan frustrated from being hog tied. "I won't go in an official capacity, if that is going to cause a problem, but I'm free to go where I choose on vacation and I hear Jersey is a great vacation spot." Mary's protest died in her throat. He was deadly serious. She felt a hint of unease in her stomach. If something was off, it would be a good thing to have Marshall there, by her side. _Where he belonged. _But stellar service aside, the Jersey office would know all about her run-ins with the FBI. Why would they be requesting her? And why would her partner be denied her?

"Ok," she said grudgingly, "you can come." He gave her a hard look.

"I wasn't asking for permission," he stated flatly. He turned around and returned to his desk. He had to take a deep breath and unclench his fists. Every fiber in his being was screaming that something was wrong, that Mary was in danger. There was no way in hell she was going up to Jersey without him, even if he had to cuff himself to her.

"I'll book us a flight," she said, watching Marshall warily. Stan spoke up again.

"FTF is sending a private plane to pick you up in the morning."

The statement hung in the air, unsettling already agitated instincts.

"And where, exactly, are they going to be taking me?" Mary ground out the question, alarm turning to anger.

Stan shook his head. "Don't know. I wasn't given any additional information. I've asked Eleanor to see what she can dig up."

Mary and Marshall looked at each other. "Guess we leave tonight then," Mary said, suddenly quite sure she didn't want to be separated from Marshall for one minute while she was up there. "I'll contact the Jersey office tonight, once we arrive. And I don't believe I will mention Marshall."

Marshall talked to Stan when Mary left to collect her overnight bag from home. "I've made a few calls too. None of my contacts out east had anything much to say about this Hauptner. Nothing good, nothing bad. I don't like it. Mary is being railroaded into something here Stan. Someone wants her there badly, and they want her alone." Stan nodded.

"I agree, but I don't know what other measures to take. I have been directly ordered by the ADA and my boss to make sure Mary arrives in Jersey. This has been sanctioned by the Marshal Service. I can't disobey a direct order. The shit is going to hit the fan when they find out she didn't wait for the private plane. But I agree, something is going on. I worry Mary is being made the fall guy for something, and I'll bet that bastard O'Connor put her name out there, for whatever this is. He has a grudge against her a mile wide."

The two men looked at each other grimly, recalling how O'Connor went after Brandi and Mary like a pit bull that wouldn't give up its prize. As far as they were aware, O'Connor had never suffered any consequences for what he had put the Shannon family through. Which now that he thought about it, struck Marshall as odd. There should have at least been a reprimand in his file, statements taken from Mary. He would have to look into that. The unsettled feeling in his stomach intensified.

Mary was going to show up to this little party with him as her plus one, whether or not anybody else liked it.


	3. Chapter 3 The Setup

Chapter 3 – The Set up

Their plane touched down in Newark around 10:00 in the evening. After checking into the airport hotel, Mary called the Jersey FTF office and left a message for Marshal Hauptner. Stan was right about the shit hitting the fan. Mary received a call at 5:30 the next morning, and Hauptner was livid, screaming at her. She held the phone away from her ear until she heard silence, then calmly asked the location of the transfer. Hauptner said he would send someone around to pick her up. Mary deftly dodged the invitation, stated she had her own transportation and would meet them at the assigned location.

"I'll send someone to pick you up. Make sure you don't get lost." There was a hint of condescension in his voice, followed by a moment of heavy silence as Mary counted to ten.

"I used to live here remember. _Idiot. _Worked out of this office._ Stupid idiot. _I know my way around. _Smug, stupid idiot. _I am only here at your insistence. I just want to get the transfer handled and get back to Albuquerque. Now, where should I meet you?" Mary heard heavy breathing, a muttered aside to someone else, and the slamming of a door in the background.

Hauptner gave her the name of a small, private airport south of Newark. Mary arranged to meet him there at 9:00. He refused to give her the fugitive's name or any details about him.

Mary hung up the phone, her uneasiness growing, and felt the urge to get out of the hotel. She began to suspect she may have an uninvited visitor arrive to offer her a lift. Quickly dressing and running a comb through her hair, she gathered her things together, shoved them in her overnight bag and walked down the hall to Marshall's room.

He came to the door after a few sharp raps and stood yawning in front of her. Mary took in the Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas, _please let those have been a gift from a nephew, _the T-shirt that rather nicely outlined his chest and his hair which spiked every which way. He was rather adorable in a nerdy way. He had obviously still been asleep. She realized she had been staring, when his eyes sharpened and he smiled in a knowing way.

"Stop undressing me with your eyes and come on in." Mary gave a guilty start and then glared at him.

"If that's what I wanted, you'd be in your shorts right now. I was thrown off by the trains on your pj's." She pushed past him and sat down on his bed. It was still warm from his body. She felt slightly odd, knowing he had been lying there, just moments before. "Got a call from Hauptner. He was royally pissed. Wanted to send someone to pick me up. Took me a while to get the transfer location out of him. Said he was worried about me getting lost. Something is up Marshall. I feel like I'm being set up for something. And he wouldn't tell me anything about the fugitive. We need to get out of here, because I think he is sending someone over anyway."

Marshall stood in front of her, his arms crossed, legs spread apart, a frown on his face. Very manly stance, one idle part of Mary's brain thought, even with the trains. It was sometimes hard to remember that he was a man. He was just Marshall, her partner, her friend.

"Ok, I'll be ready in ten. I don't like the sound of this. Call Stan and update him. Have Eleanor do some digging on this Hauptner. There's no excuse to withhold fugitive information, when you are responsible for the transfer."

They were checked out of the hotel by 6:15 a.m. Mary knew a good diner close by and they had a leisurely breakfast. As they were finishing, Marshall's phone rang, He listened briefly, said thanks and hung up, his face grim.

"I flashed my badge to the desk clerk, told him to call if anyone came by or called, looking for you. Said a tall, dark man just asked for your room number. He also had a marshal's badge. He was not happy to hear you had checked out."

Mary was silent a moment. "We need to plan a strategy. It will throw them off to see you. They are only planning for me. And Marshall, someone in the Jersey office must be in on this, besides Hauptner."

They arrived at the airport 15 minutes early, Mary in the drivers seat. Pulling up outside the cargo terminal number Hauptner had given her, she scanned the tarmac and surrounding buildings. Marshall studied the two Cessna planes parked on the tarmac and the service vehicle parked outside the terminal. His unease was growing. Neither of those planes were JPATS. There was no sign of the FTF marshals or their prisoner. Mary got out of the car and assumed a defensive stance, hand lightly resting on her service weapon. Marshall stayed in the car, weapon drawn and ready. They had decided it would be best for him to not draw attention to himself.

At 9:10 a black SUV drew up and four men got out. Mary's eyes narrowed. Still no sign of the prisoner. She waited a moment, as all four men stood and stared at her. "So, which one of you is Hauptner?" she finally asked. The silence stretched on. Mary studied each of the men. There was a nondescript man who embodied the definition of average – average height, average weight, average face. A second man was bulky, with a crew cut and dark glasses. The third man was husky and blonde with a beard. The last man was tall, thin and dark.

Mary cocked her head. "Either someone speaks or I'm getting in the car and leaving. You went to great lengths to get me here. Here I am. Where is your prisoner?"

Tall, thin and dark nodded and blonde and husky turned to open the back door of the SUV. A muscular man with brown hair and round spectacles got out. Mary started forward, then stopped short. The prisoner wasn't cuffed or otherwise restrained.

"Why the hell isn't he restrained?" she asked angrily, drawing her weapon as she spoke. The tall, dark thin man turned to her.

"Marshal Shannon, take charge of your prisoner." He shoved the man towards Mary. Mary reached out automatically to steady the man as he stumbled towards her. In her peripheral vision she saw two of the men circle around behind her. The prisoner roughly shoved Mary back and took off at a sprint towards one of the Cessnas.

Anther vehicle had drawn up and three additional men got out. Mary was never sure who fired the first shot, or exactly who the target was. Gunshots started whizzing past her. _Jeez these guys are piss poor shots. _Mary took off after the prisoner. She reached him at the base of the lowered steps of the plane, amid a cacophony of gunfire and shouts. _When did the steps come down? _As she grabbed his arm to cuff him, she felt the cold hard steel of a Glock at the base of her neck and the unmistakable click of the safety being released. She froze in her place, but didn't release her hold on the prisoner.

"Inspector Shannon." The voice was smug, self satisfied. She recognized it from the phone call this morning. Hauptner. "My, my, you've made a royal mess of this one. Let the prisoner escape," this as he clamped his hand over Mary's, forcing her to release her hold. Nodding at the prisoner, he shouted in to the pilot, "Go on, get the hell out of here." He pulled Mary roughly away from the plane. They turned back to take in a scene that brought ice water to her veins.

Marshall was lying face down on the ground, one of the newly arrived men standing over him, a gun at this head. Mary saw another man lying on the tarmac. Neither of the men were moving. She couldn't make her brain process. The man on the tarmac wasn't one of the original four or the three new arrivals. She placed all seven of them in her line of sight.

"Marshal Shannon, I'm placing you under arrest for obstructing a prisoner transfer, for aiding and abetting a known criminal and oh yes, for murder."

"What! Hauptner, what the hell is going on? Who is that man?" She pulled her arm free and pointed to the man on the tarmac and turned to go to Marshall, then heard the gun cock back.

"I guess I need to add evading arrest to those charges" Mary's couldn't process what was happening. She had no idea who any of these men were. Didn't even know if the man purporting to be Hauptner was actually him. None of them had shown any ID, nor were there any marshals badges visible. Come to that, none of these guys looked like Marshal Service. They were supposedly part of the Fugitive Task Force, but they looked a lot more like...FBI. And FBI in Jersey meant one person. O'Connor. Would he seriously go to these lengths just to set her up? No, not even he could be that big of an idiot. He must be in deep with something and she was just an added bonus.

She kept perfectly still as Hauptner relieved her of her weapon, then called one of the others over to take her ankle pistol from her. She was keeping one eye on Marshall. He was still lying on the ground, but she could see he had one arm underneath him and he still had his gun. The engines of the Cessna behind them roared to life. Crew cut with dark glasses sprinted over and bounded up the stairs before they were pulled up and the plane turned around to start its taxi to the runway.

Mary was fighting hard to keep her breathing normal. She wished Marshall would move. The fact that there was still a gun trained on him must mean he's still alive, _please God doesn't it?, _but it looked like he was knocked out. Hauptner was leading her back to the SUV.

"There is someone that wants to talk to you very badly." Voice smooth as silk. Mary had a pretty good idea of who the someone was.

As they drew close to Marshall's still body, she saw an almost imperceptible flicker of his finger and she tensed. Marshall groaned and started to turn over, giving a kick in the legs to the man standing over him and aiming his weapon at a 55 gallon drum sitting next to the hangar behind them. He pinched off a shot and the drum exploded, sending flames up into the air. Marshall was on his feet, shouting to Mary, who was already running towards the car. Taking advantage of the pandemonium that erupted, they quickly got in the car and took off, Marshall flooring the gas pedal, Mary already dialing Stan, as shots were fired behind them. A few came uncomfortably close.

As Marshall squealed out of the airport, Mary shouted at him to head south and then shouted at Stan when he answered.

"Stan, it was a total setup. These men are SHOOTING at us!" She was stopped dead by Stan's calm voice.

"Mary, I have FBI agents here, who have informed me you are under arrest. For murder among other things. Wherever you are, turn yourself in to the closest office. I'll be up there today, after I stop at Vinnies."

Mary closed her phone with trembling fingers. Marshall turned worried eyes on her.

"The FBI is already at the Sunshine Building, they've already told Stan about the murder charge." Marshall's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Didn't I mention? Hauptner was charging me with the murder of that dead guy on the tarmac among other things. But he just told me that not fifteen minutes ago. How could agents in Albuquerque know about it already? Marshall, Stan used the code word. The phone lines are being monitored. There are going to be people looking for us."


	4. Chapter 4 Jersey Shore

Chapter 4 – Jersey Shore

Marshall was thinking quickly, assessing the information Mary gave him about Hauptner and the prisoner. She was right, people were going to be looking for them, and not the right kind of people. If FBI agents were already at the office, all their travel plans were known, including their rental car information. They had to ditch the car.

"So Bonnie, want to go on the lam with me?" She chuckled slightly at that. "I'm going to stop at the next convenience store I see. We need to each draw out the maximum amount of cash from our bank accounts. We're probably only looking at $400 between the two of us. We need to get rid of the car. There may well be road blocks on the interstates already. We can't use any credit cards after this. And we need to find a way to contact Stan. Our phones can be traced."

Mary was thinking also. After they made their cash withdrawals, she directed Marshall to the train station in Elizabeth and instructed him to park in a large downtown parking garage. The car would be found eventually, but they might get a days head start. They walked to the train station. Mary studied the rail map for the North Coast line and bought tickets to one of the little towns that dotted the Jersey shore. They rode in silence, the chattering of other passengers swirling around them. The enormity of what had happened and what they were doing, just beginning to sink in. _I am running from the law I swore to uphold. _She reached over and tightly grasped Marshall's hand.

"He said there was someone who really wanted to talk to me." Marshall's thumb slowly started rubbing gentle circles on her wrist.

"O'Connor." It was a statement, not a question. The name left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Do you think he just wanted to rub it in or there was another reason?" Mary wasn't sure she wanted to hear his answer.

"Well, he has an ego the size of Texas and the tenacity of a bulldog. He would want you to know that he won, that he outsmarted you. He would want you to pay for his humiliation. I think he truly believed that Brandi possessed those drugs and that you knew about it. He would want you to know to a certainty that he was the one who planned and carried out the debacle with the prisoner, that he is the one holding you responsible, that there isn't anything you can do about it. It fits in with his personality."

She soberly considered his words. "Asshole."

Marshall chuckled his agreement and laced his fingers through hers.

When they got off the train, Mary stood a moment, breathing in the salty scent of the ocean. She had missed this. It was about the only thing she missed from Jersey. Marshall gently took her hand and they started walking towards the ocean.

"Any of these places lax about ID at check-in?" he asked, scanning some of the rather seedy looking motels they were passing.

"You think I've been here before?" she asked defensively. He looked at her mildly.

"Haven't you? Isn't that why you picked this town?"

She ducked her head. She hated that he knew her so well. She pointed up about two blocks.

"Horrible garish pink place on the right. They never used to ask any questions." Marshall smiled.

"Horrible garish pink place it is then."

Nothing has changed, Mary thought as she looked around the small, depressing room. Nothing at all from when we stayed here when I was twelve. Probably even the same bedspreads. The decor was 1970's earth tones. There was a small TV and a stark, functional bathroom. They had returned from getting some supper. Marshall dropped down on the bed beside her, reached out and laced his fingers through hers.

"We have to figure out what that prisoner escape was really about, how far up the FBI involvement is and why you? I need to find an internet cafe. I have an email account set up through my ten year old nephew, which I did just for an 'in case' situation. Eleanor has the address, so I'm hoping she will send whatever information she finds on Hauptner to that email." He shrugged. "It might be safe." Mary stared at him, then scooted closer.

"Are you seriously that paranoid?" She punched him on the arm and he winced.

"God Marshall, I never even asked you what happened to you at the airport." She looked at him contritely. "Or if you're ok." He smiled down at her, rubbing his shoulder.

"Any day you're not dead is a good day. I got out of the car when I saw the prisoner wasn't restrained. Knew something was up. Two of those guys were circling around behind you. I had words with one of them. When the bullets started flying, it took me by surprise, there was no trigger for it. They all just started shooting. I don't know Mary. Ostensibly, they were shooting at the prisoner, but they couldn't all be such lousy shots could they? Either that shootout was for show, or they intended for you to accidentally get in the way. I was trying to watch you and the prisoner. I saw the second SUV pull up and then realized one of the other guys was behind me. He cocked me one to the back of the head and I hit the ground."

Mary gingerly placed her fingers on the back of his head and felt for the tender spot. Marshall winced and Mary winced too. He was going to have a goose egg back there. ''You should get some ice on that," she said softly.

They took stock of their situation. They each had their overnight bag, with one change of clothing and toiletries. They had their cell phones. Marshall had his service revolver. They had $450 in cash, between what they had on them and what they withdrew from the ATM, less the hotel, the train tickets and supper. They were fugitives from the law, or at least Mary was. How ironic. After working for the FTF she was now on the other side, just because that a-hole O'Connor couldn't let it go. They couldn't contact Stan, Eleanor or their families. Every law enforcement agency in the area would be looking for them, or her at least.

After some planning for the next day, they turned in, tacitly agreeing to share the rooms single bed. Marshall's harshly used body protested as he got undressed. He had glossed things over a bit for Mary. He was going to have some doozy bruising. Mary was turned on her side when Marshall slid in next to her. He drifted off next to her tense body beside him, hoping she could relax enough to get some sleep.

Mary woke with a start during the night. She listened intently, wondering what had startled her. All she could hear was the soothing sound of the waves crashing on the shore, _Marshall must have opened the window, _and the steady breathing of the man himself beside her. She took a deep, calming breath. She was surprised and distressed to discover how close to the surface her tears were. She took another deep breath. Marshall could have been killed today. _What would I do without Marshall? _When she had looked over and seen him lying so still on that tarmac, her heart had leapt into her throat. This would probably end both their careers. _That will kill Marshall. It's all he ever wanted to be – a US Marshal. _Assuming they could stay alive in order to have careers ended. They were still in danger. _I believe Hauptner would shoot me as easily as arrest me_. _What if he hurt Marshall?_ Another deep breath that hitched at the end.

Marshall reached behind him and found her hand, tugged gently until she rolled onto her side behind him and brought her hand around him, pressed it against his chest. Her fingers fluttered in agitation against him. He closed his palm around her fingers to still them, drew her hand up underneath his shirt and pressed it against his bare skin. Kept it there, flattened out so she could feel the strong beat of his heart. Steady, rhythmic, reassuring. Her fingers found the small ridge of scar tissue from his bullet wound. _My God, he's already been shot once in the line of duty, isn't that enough? _She traced the circular scar lightly. Her thoughts were on a treadmill, going round and round. _How are we going to extricate ourselves from this mess? Why am I being targeted? How in the world am I going to make this up to Marshall, dragging him into yet another aspect of the train wreck of my life?`_ She began to shake, as she concentrated on shoving down the sob she felt rising in her chest.

Marshall released her hand and deftly turned over, wrapped his arms gently around her and pulled her in close. Placing his mouth on her ear, he murmured in a low voice, "Just let it go. It's ok, I have you." Mary was trembling, tears rolling down her cheeks. He was warm and solid and safe.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," she whispered, her hands creeping up and twisting in his t-shirt.

She could hear the smile in his voice as he answered her. "I'm still here Mary. Nothing happened to me. Thank you for worrying about me, but just for tonight, please, let it go and relax. Let me carry the load for you. Just for tonight." He nudged his leg in between hers, in order to pull her closer to him. Realizing quickly that this new position was going to cause him problems, he trailed his hand back down her rib cage, skimmed over her buttocks and curled around her hip. He lifted her up and shifted her back slightly, so she was still close to him, but not pressed up against his groin.

Mary accepted his embrace and maneuvering, sighed, letting her mind go blank. She wouldn't think about anything but how safe Marshall felt, how nice. The angular planes of his body, his lean muscles, his long limbs. He was so lovely, so safe, so dependable. She tucked her head into his shoulder and relaxed into sleep.

When Mary woke in the morning, she was alone. She felt bereft by the loss of Marshall's warmth, the solid reassurance of his body. How did he manage to leave without her knowing? She must have been completely knackered. She tamped down a twinge of panic. A quick glance around told he her wasn't in the room. She sat up slowly and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The door opened and Marshall entered, bearing two steaming cups of coffee.

"Morning Sunshine." He really had a nice smile Mary thought. She eagerly accepted the cup of coffee from him. He sat down next to her, his leg touching hers. He took a deep drink and looked at her obliquely.

"So, game plan for today?" He waited patiently for her to respond. She studied him a moment, harshly drawing in her breath as she took in the bruises on his arm. She lightly touched the ugly blue splotches. He grasped her hand carefully and pulled back, giving a slight shake of his head. _Don't._

Mary bit back her comments of outrage and concern. He didn't want them. She brought her mind back to his question. "We need to find an internet cafe. After that, we need to move on, get back on the train." Marshall nodded in agreement as he stood up and reached into his bag, drawing out a long sleeved shirt to put on over his t-shirt.

Mary quickly dressed and pulled her hair back. "OK doofus, let's see if your cloak and dagger conspiracy plan B you've got going with Eleanor works."

They trudged into the small town and located an internet cafe. Mary had bought a baseball cap earlier and wrapped her long hair up under it. Marshall quickly logged on to his nephews account and softly crowed with delight when he saw the email from Eleanor.


	5. Chapter 5 What's Not to Adore?

Chapter 5 - What's Not to Adore?

Marshall read through the email from Eleanor quickly, while Mary peered over his shoulder, her hand lightly resting on his back. He sat back flabbergasted, then read through it again, more slowly.

"Son of a bitch!" she burst out. Marshall nodded his agreement. He quickly printed out the information.

"Come on," he said, grabbing her hand, "we need to get out of here." They returned to the motel and gathered their bags, then quickly made their way back to the train station. They were about two blocks from the station when Marshall muttered to her, "We've picked up a tail. About a half block behind us. Don't turn to look." His grip tightened on her hand and they quickened their pace slightly.

'Who is it? One of the guys from the airport?" Mary's voice was tight. Her mind was whirling. How could they possibly have found them so quickly?

"I didn't get a full look at him. Possibly. When we turn the corner up here, start running." They veered around the corner and took off at a quick pace, aiming for the entrance to the train station. Unexpectedly, a shot whizzed past Mary's head. She started to hit the ground, but Marshall gripped her hand, pulled her up and took off at a full run as another bullet passed by Mary's head. Ducking into the station, they ran for the platform and jumped on the train just as the doors closed and the train slowly began to pull out of the station.

Moving down several cars, they dropped into seats on a fairly empty car. Both of them were shaken. It was one thing to have someone after you in order to arrest you, no matter how nefarious the reasons. It was quite another to have someone actively trying to kill you. There had been no cry of 'Stop, police', or 'Stop FBI', or even 'Stop, US Marshals'. No 'You are under arrest'. Just shooting. Shooting with intent to kill.

Mary leaned against Marshall and tried to regulate her breathing. "You should have just shot him," she grumbled. Marshall looked at her like she was an idiot.

"I shoot him, a potential federal employee, while on the run with a wanted fugitive. How does this end well for me?" She made a face, knowing he was right. Suddenly looking around her, she sat up in alarm.

"Marshall," she whispered, "I must have dropped my bag." His clear, understanding eyes turned on her.

"Cash?" he asked. She smiled slowly. "In my pocket."

"Cell phone?" Another smile. "Other pocket."

"So all you're out is a change of clothes and a toothbrush?" She nodded and relaxed.

"Not so bad I guess. Where are we heading?" Mary asked as she settled back into her seat.

"You tell me. This is your area of the country, not mine." He looked at her curiously.

"We need to get off sooner rather than later. I expect there will shortly be people posted at each station watching for us." The train was already slowing for the first stop. Marshall nodded and stood up.

They quickly exited the train once the doors opened and headed out of the station, scanning the street for signs of danger. They put as much distance between themselves and the train station as they could, finally picking a small diner in which to regroup. Choosing a booth to sit in, and placing an order for pie and coffee, Marshall pulled out the information he had printed out from Eleanor.

"How did he find us?" Mary asked in a low voice, worry creasing her brow. "I mean, so quickly?" He glanced up at her, lips pulled tight.

"I've been thinking about that too." He pulled out his phone, looked at it. "GPS chip?" he questioned. "If these guys are tied into government resources, they could track us through our phones. I turned mine off after we ditched the car. You did too. Have you had yours on? Since then?"

"I'm an idiot," she whispered. "I checked for messages this morning, only had it on for a couple minutes."

"That's all it would take, if someone was watching for it. OK, no more phones. The bad thing is, they know the general area we are in." She was silent a moment.

"Let's go over the file." She tapped his shirt pocket where he has tucked the printouts.

Marshall kept a wary eye on the door to the diner as he pulled out the sheets of paper he had printed out. "Ok. Cliff Hauptner. US Marshal for ten years. Joined the Fugitive Task Force four years ago. Must have been shortly after you left for WitSec. Nothing that stands out in his service record. No black marks but no recommendations either. Here is the alarming bit. Hauptner worked with O'Connor on a bust two years ago. So there is a known connection. And his financials are a mess. Seems he likes to bet on the ponies. Turns out your prisoner was one Mike Malone, a loan shark. Was just sentenced to a five year federal prison sentence. Hauptner pulled in some favors and got himself assigned to the transfer. You make the leap." Mary was thinking quickly, putting together the likely scenario.

"Hauptner was in hock to Malone. Malone likely has some scary contacts that help him 'collect' his debts. Hauptner cut a deal with Malone to spring him in exchange for his debt being forgiven. The best time for the 'escape' would be at the transfer. Hauptner needed a fall guy. At least one of those men at the airport had to be an actual marshal, someone who was either in on it or at least an accessory, to be able back up Hauptner's story of what happened during the transfer. I doubt all of them were marshals. Hauptner either confided to O'Connor or O'Connor somehow caught wind of it, and put my name out there as the perfect marshal to put on the transfer. Double whammy – Hauptner gets his prisoner sprung, blames me for the screw up, and O'Connor gets me arrested or possibly killed. Does Eleanor know who the dead guy is?"

"Marshal Kevin Lambert, FTF. My guess...he knew about Hauptner." Mary rested her head in her hands, rubbing her temples, digesting this alarming information.

"My God Marshall. Hauptner had the guy killed to shut him up? How are we going to prove it? If I get taken in, I think there is a real chance I could be killed."

"I think there's a bigger chance you'll be killed 'resisting arrest'. We have to get in touch with Stan and Eleanor. They will have worked most of this out from this information. But we need to talk to them. They only have Hauptner's version of what happened. The FBI is probably monitoring their phone lines – private as well as office. And we have to keep ahead of Hauptner's people."

The pie arrived and they silently ate, each considering the tight situation they found themselves in. Mary's mouth firmed as she made a decision and she looked up and caught Marshall's eye.

"You have to go back to Albuquerque. They aren't actually after you. You need to talk to Stan and you need access to resources we simply don't have on our own."

Marshall sat back, stunned she would even suggest something so ludicrous. His eyes turned steely blue and he leaned across the table. He spoke in a very low voice, his 'don't give me any of that shit' voice he used on recalitrant witnesses, his dangerous voice.

"Ain't going to happen." He reached over and took her hand in a firm grasp. "Do you understand me? Not. Going. To. Happen." He squeezed her hand almost painfully, wanting to be sure he had her full attention. Mary stared at him, opened her mouth, shut it again, finally nodded. Marshall relaxed his grip on her, but didn't let go, studied her face a moment, then reached out with one long finger and swiped a smear of whipped cream off her chin. He smiled and licked his finger. Mary felt a rush of heat she was at a loss to explain. Why did she find that small gesture so hot? It was only Marshall. She frowned. Marshall who had felt so very nice when he held her last night, kept her safe, let her fall apart for just a little while as he held her pieces together. She withdrew her hand in confusion and looked away.

"Besides, I'm probably considered an accessory by now. You think they don't know I'm with you?" He gave no sign that he noticed her withdrawal from him. "We need to find a library. And do something about your hair. They will be looking for a woman with long blonde hair." A smile that made Mary very suspicious spread across his face. "Come on." Throwing some bills down on the table, he took her hand and they left the diner. Asking a teenager on the street for directions to the library, they quickly made their way to the small brick building. As Marshall suspected, a library card wasn't required to use their computers, common with many small libraries.

Logging on to his nephews email account, Marshall sent a message to one of his witnesses.

_George, Marshall here. Need a favor. It won't make sense, but please call Stan, tell him the gang is meeting at Vinnies tonight at 8:00. He'll understand and I'll explain soon. Don't say it's from me._

"How do you know George will pick that up today?"

"George, with the Blackberry surgically attached to his palm? He'll get it today. We just need to make sure we can get to a public phone at 8:00."

Mary looked at him with amusement. "And of course George adores you. He'll do anything you ask." Marshall shot her a sour look. George's open admiration of and frank interest in him, frequently made him a bit uncomfortable.

"Yes, George does adore me." He shot her a flirtatious look. "What's not to adore?"

What indeed, Mary asked herself as she looked at him thoughtfully. He was adorable, every long, lean inch of him.

Marshall did a quick search of New York and New Jersey papers to see if there was any mention of the shooting at the airport, or the fugitive marshals. Nothing.

"They are keeping this under the radar. Which could be a bad thing. Means they don't want local LEOs involved. Which means they could be sending professionals after us. This is serious Mary. Hauptner can't afford to have you talk." They stared at each other silently, Marshall feeling a creeping cold hand of fear clenching his stomach.

He quickly checked the fugitive wanted list and didn't see Mary's name. He then checked the bus schedules. Turning to study her, he smiled that dangerous smile again and stood up. They left the library and started walking, keeping to the residential streets.

"I think our best bet is to head to Philadelphia. From there, we will have a lot of destination options." Mary grunted her agreement, as she scanned the streets. "We have several hours before the bus leaves for Philly. What do you think, safer to wait in the bus station or to just wander around the town?"

"Wander," she replied without hesitation. "Too much of a sitting target at the bus terminal." They meandered up and down streets, generally heading towards the ocean, keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings. As the sound of the waves grew louder, Mary turned to Marshall and prodded him in the arm.

"I want to go to the beach, just for a little bit." Avoiding the main public beaches, they located a more barren stretch of sand and walked along barefoot, shoes in hand, the surf rushing in over their feet in tiny waves. Mary breathed in the clean salt air, felt the pull of the sand under her feet as it rushed back out with the retreating waves. She had missed this, the smell of the ocean, so different from the clean mountain air of Albuquerque.

Marshall let her have the time she needed to be silent, to enjoy the sounds and smells of the ocean, to get her thoughts back in line so she could consider their predicament with a clear mind. He casually reached over and took her hand. They watched seagulls flying overhead, some small children building a sand castle, a cargo ship off in the distance. Walking along the shell littered shore, Mary cast a cautious glance at him, wondering what was weaving through the gears in his head. They reached a secluded area, with no other people in view. Marshall dropped his bag on the sand and pulled Mary down in front of him. Pulling a brush and a couple of hair bands out of his bag, he firmly turned Mary around so her back was to him and splayed his legs out in a V on either side of her.

"Do I even want to know why you have hair bands in your bag?" she asked sarcastically. He chuckled and began to gently run the brush through her hair, working out the tangles the wind and salt air had created. Running the brush over and over through her thick blond tresses, until it became hypnotic and Mary's eyes closed. She turned her face up so the warmth of the sun played on her cheeks. She listened to the repetitive sound of the waves approaching and retreating. She felt the pull of the brush through her hair, Marshall loosely holding her long locks in his hand. In this one moment, putting aside the fact someone was trying to kill her, in this one moment she felt perfectly happy. He parted her hair down the center of her skull and deftly began to braid one side, tying off the end with one of the bands and moving to plait the other side. He pulled the braids up and wrapped them around her head, pulled her cap out of his bag and covered the braids with the cap.

"Where did you learn how to braid hair Marshall," she asked sleepily. The man was full of surprises. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to speak in her ear.

"You think I didn't play with little girls braids as a kid?" Mary felt a shiver run down her spine. This felt like flirting. But it couldn't be. This was Marshall. "Of course, it's more fun to play with big girls braids."

He scooted back as Mary turned around to stare at him. He was flirting. Standing up, Marshall offered her his hand, watched her inspect it suspiciously before taking it and allowing him to pull her up.

"Bus station," he said.

************

Marshall hurried back to Mary, waiting for him in one of the uncomfortable plastic seats in the bus terminal, tickets in hand. "Ok", he said, "first we go to Philly, then we take an overnight bus to Norfolk, Virginia." He looked apologetic. "It won't be comfortable, but it should be safe." Mary silently held out her hand for her ticket.

Later, as the bus rolled through the darkened fields of Pennsylvania, Marshall considered several possibilities for them. He looked down at Mary, her head on his shoulder, listened to her soft, even breaths as she slept. He felt ridiculously pleased that she trusted him enough to sleep against him. She had thrown out one possibility, which he had refused to consider. No power on earth was going to separate him from this woman. They couldn't just keep running. Money was soon going to be an issue.

He had borrowed the cell phone of an older gentleman sitting behind them, and made the call to the pay phone outside Vinnies. Stan answered on the first ring. After assuring him they were alright, at least for the time being, and giving a quick synopsis of the debacle with the prisoner transfer, he had gotten the low down on the search for them. There was an FBI agent posted at the office, the office phones were monitored, their home phones were monitored, Marshall and Mary's families were being monitored. Stan had put Eleanor onto digging up everything she could on all parties involved, going up the food chain at the FTF office in Jersey and the local FBI office too. Also on the loan shark Malone. The key to this was going to be finding Malone.

Marshall ended the call and returned the phone, reluctant to wake Mary when she was finally getting some rest. She had slipped her arm through his and was holding on to him, even in her sleep. He decided he could relay his conversation in the morning.

The bus rolled into Norfolk early in the morning. Marshall gently nudged Mary awake and smiled as she groused at him. Mary wasn't a morning person. They shuffled in line behind the other departing passengers. After finding a kiosk selling coffee, they sat down in the waiting area.

"I want to keep moving," Mary said suddenly, "keep heading south. Get us tickets to somewhere else. I don't care where." There was an edge to her voice Marshall couldn't place. He walked to the ticket counter and came back with two tickets on a regional bus line for one of the small towns that dotted the North Carolina coast. An hour later they were back on a bus and Mary settled comfortably against Marshall.

Marshall filled her in on his conversation with Stan. She digested the new information. Yes, the key was going to be finding Malone and getting him to rat out Hauptner. That would likely involve some kind of plea deal and the FBI might not be willing to do that, especially if O'Connor was implicated. He would fight tooth and nail against it. They needed more. Another witness who would flip. But they didn't know who any of the other players were at the airport. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize the airport. The cargo terminal behind them, the SUV, the two Cessna planes on the tarmac.

"Marshall," her eyes flew open, "would there be any security cameras on that cargo terminal?" Marshall had a dawning expression of pure joy.

"There should be. They might have caught some or all of our little escapade. We have to get in touch with Stan again." Mary thought another moment.

"That explosion had to have captured somebody's attention. Local fire department, police, possibly arson squad. It's likely if there was a camera, the tape has already been confiscated." She was right, Marshall knew. They had to find out who was in charge of the investigation. They waited impatiently for the bus to reach their destination. Quickly exiting the bus, they looked for an internet cafe. Locating one along the lovely promenade the town boasted, Marshall sent another message to George.

_George, need to get another message to Stan. Tell him his cargo has arrived at the terminal and not to worry, security is good, cameras to keep watch. Thanks, M._

"You sure Stan is going to understand?" Mary was frowning.

"Not so sure about Stan, but Eleanor will." He grinned up at her. Leaving the cafe, they walked down the promenade, heading towards the residential section of town, as the sun was starting to sink down low in the late afternoon sky. The promenade was filling in with people, out for an early evening stroll. Marshall admired the way Mary's hair was burnished by the rays of the sun.

Marshall was just beginning to wonder what they were going to do for the night when he caught sight of a disturbingly familiar head of spiky black hair and caught the glint of sun against steel under his jacket. And he was with the blond, husky accomplice from the airport.

Trying to keep as casual as possible, he wrapped on arm around Mary and started walking rather swiftly in the opposite direction, quickly reaching in his pack for Mary's cap.

"What's the rush?" Mary questioned and faltered as she saw his face. He pulled the cap down on her head.

"Two of the guys from the airport – tall, dark and thin and blonde and husky. Coming down the promenade behind us. I don't think they've made us yet. But this isn't good."


	6. Chapter 6 Belonging

Chapter 6 – Belonging

_The two men showing up on the promenade had shaken her. Marshall had quickly pulled her against him, trying to blend in with the other couples along the ivy covered wall. He was well positioned to be able to keep her face hidden, while having a good view of their pursuers. Mary had felt the tension rising in him as the two men from the airport came closer to them. And then he had murmured 'trust me' in her ear. And then he had kissed her._

Mary laid on the bed, trying to calm the nervous feeling in her stomach as she waited for Marshall to return. She didn't like to be separated from him. Hearing the gentle tap on the door before it opened and he walked in, she sat up, greeting him with a huge smile of relief. Marshall was almost bowled over by the brilliance of that smile. She was absolutely, genuinely happy to see him. He set down his purchases and swiftly crossed over to her, pulling her into a fierce hug. She not only allowed the contact, she snaked her arms around his neck, tightly clinging to him.

In the 45 minutes he had been gone, Mary had replayed the scene along the promenade over and over in her head, reliving the feel of his mouth on hers, the little thrill that ran down into the pit of her stomach as he had parted her lips with his tongue. The moment the kiss had changed from a perfunctory necessity to keep Mary's face hidden and the two of them blended in with the other lovers, to one of true emotion, real desire, barely controlled want. Who knew Marshall would be so good at kissing? The man never ceased to amaze.

Marshall ran his hands down her sides, coming to rest firmly on her hips. He pulled back so he could look at her, see the totally open expression on her face. He recognized something had changed between them out on that promenade. Something that gave him hope.

"I feel silly saying I missed you when I wasn't even gone an hour." He kissed her swiftly on the cheek. "But I did." He smiled down at her, then reluctantly released her. "I brought some sandwiches and picked up a few things for you. " He blushed faintly red. "I got you some underclothes and a shirt and picked up a toothbrush for you." Mary opened the bag and pulled out a blue shirt, two pairs of undies and a bra. Very functional and modest. _White cotton. How...sweet. _She checked the sizes and looked at him accusingly. His blush deepened.

"How, exactly, did you know what size clothes I wear? Have you gone rifling through my things?" He shook his head.

"God no! I want to live. I just have a pretty good eye for..." He trailed off as Mary turned a hard glare on him.

'Have you been checking me out?" He floundered helplessly. There was no good way to answer that. He sucked in a deep breath and decided to go for the truth.

"Mary, I like women. Actually, I adore women. I've been watching them since I was thirteen years old. We've been partners for four years. I watch you every day. And I do have a good eye for sizes. Just so you know, I would have to be dead to have not checked you out. You are very attractive. Men are drawn to attractive. I'm a man. Just in case you forgot."

Mary stared at him, confusing emotions swirling through her. A long ago memory came to her. _I'm a guy. It's what we do. _Just how did he feel about her? She turned to the bag with the sandwiches to hide the blush that came to her cheeks and pulled one out. Marshall noticed she had shaken her hair loose and it fell down her back in curving waves from the plaits.

They ate and discussed plans for the next day.

"What are we doing that they keep finding us so quickly?" Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. Marshall felt sure they weren't spotted on the promenade. But it was a good question.

"My guess, they questioned the ticket agents, found out we went to Philly, from there on to Norfolk, then to here. We can't use the buses or trains anymore. Airports, car rentals, out. I think we are reduced to bicycles or theft." They looked at each other miserably, both heaved a sigh. "Hitchhiking." They said it together.

'Where to though?" Mary asked. After discussing several possibilities, they decided to try and get back to Albuquerque. Marshall went out to talk to Mrs. Salter. He returned a short time later, bearing tea and cookies and a big grin.

"Turns out Mrs. Salter is a wealth of information. She very solicitously asked after you. Gave me several remedies for morning sickness." The grin widened. "Intimated that a good roll in the hay may help." He ducked the pillow she threw at him, "There is a small private college in the next town over. I was able to use her computer to log on to their bulletin board. It's a long weekend coming up and a lot of the students will be going home. Students with cars looking for riders post notices and vice versa. We can get a ride as far as Nashville. I've already been in contact with the driver. Not thrilled to be hauling a couple of old farts with him, but couldn't resist my cash up front gas money. Mrs. Salter's neighbor works at the college. He'll give us a ride in the morning. I told Mrs. Salter we just wanted to see some more of the area and since we came by bus..." He took a drink of tea, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Mary finished her tea and watched Marshall puttering around the room, obviously running scenarios for the following day through his head, murmuring to himself, shaking his head, then nodding, as he tried on, rejected or accepted different possibilities. Mary's mind kept returning to the recent past instead of focusing on the immediate future. She had been shot at on two separate occasions now, assuming some of those bullets at the airport were meant for her. Every time she turned around those goons from the other day were right on her tail. It was unnerving and bothered her far more than she wanted to admit. And Marshall was being put in danger. That bothered her the most. Because of her personal problems (_read Brandi_) which led to her personal run in with O'Connor, they were in their present predicament. It wasn't fair to Marshall. Yet, here he was, standing by her as always. Her own personal Rock of Gibraltar.

Mary pulled the toothbrush out of the plastic bag and stopped short as Marshall held out one of his t-shirts to her. She raised her eyebrows.

"So you have something to sleep in," he said softly. Shaking her head at his thoughtfulness, she took the garment from him and slipped into the bathroom to shower and change. As the warm water poured over her, she considered the small gesture, so like Marshall. He really was adorable. Emerging refreshed and clean, she traded places with Marshall, taking his spot on the bed, while he used the bathroom.

**********

Marshall had his arms wrapped in a loose embrace around Mary. Relaxed in sleep, her face was so beautiful he caught his breath. Someone was trying to hurt her, to hurt his Mary. Wanted her dead. His Mary. He had been thinking of her as his for some time, though he knew she wasn't. Not in the way he wanted her to be. He tightened his hold on her, sliding one hand around her abdomen. Good God he wanted her. He had never wanted anyone the way he wanted her. She filled his arms, not a little wisp of a girl, like so many of the models and movie stars the media told him he was supposed to desire, but a full fledged woman with curves and substance. He thought fleetingly of Ally, his girlfriend from college. She had been a tiny little thing and he had been so afraid of hurting her. With Mary, that wouldn't be a worry.

Marshall stretched, flexing his long legs preparatory to curling around her again. She instinctively matched his stretch, extending her legs out to match his. She turned on her side facing him, drowsily taking in his face. With his large frame, the double bed seemed small. Mary didn't care. She wanted to be close to him, admitting the hard truth to herself that he made her feel safe. Something she desperately wanted right now. She tentatively reached up and traced the line of his jaw with trembling fingers. He turned his face to her, those piercing blue eyes illuminated by the moonlight spilling in through the window.

He was still, allowing her to explore the planes of his face, trace the outline of his lips, run a feather light finger over his eyebrow. The mattress dipped and resettled as he turned on his side also. He rested a gentle hand on her face, covering the curve of her cheek.

"I'm scared Marshall," she whispered. Something she had never admitted out loud to anyone before, ever.

"I know. I am too." His thumb began a gentle caress of her cheek. She brought her hands down to rest on his chest, not pushing away, but feeling his heartbeat under her palm. His life force. Beating strong and steady. It calmed her.

"I'm so sorry Marshall. I don't want anything to happen to you. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you, because of me." Tears were trickling down her face. Her dreams had been filled with a still Marshall not moving on the tarmac and with her running from bullets whipping past her head, Hauptner laughing maniacally.

"Hey, nothing has happened to me. I am right where I belong, watching my partner's back." Marshall ran one hand down her side, came to rest on her hip, continued the slow circles of his thumb. Mary shifted slightly, moving closer to him. She could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of the T-shirt she wore. She felt his heart beat pick up underneath her palms. Marshall leaned down and very softly kissed her, his lips caressing hers. His hand trailed down her leg and he grazed his fingers along the smooth muscle of her thigh on the way back up, continuing on over the T-shirt, coming to rest just under her breast.

Mary stretched over to capture his lips again, applying light pressure, then drew back. Marshall's fingers flexed around her ribs, but didn't move higher. She kissed him again, this time flicking her tongue against his lips. Marshall parted his lips, gently urged her mouth open, began a slow exploration, tasting, licking, thrusting. Mary's hands smoothed up his jaw, wound back into his hair. She returned his deep kiss as she drew her bare leg up against his train clad one. Letting one hand trail down his back, it came to rest on his ass. Marshall sucked in his breath. This was the stuff of his dreams - Mary in his arms, Mary letting him kiss her, Mary with her hand on his ass.

She spread her fingers, cupped his cheek and pulled him up sharply against her. _My God, he feels good. Right there, where I want him. _She quivered, feeling the familiar ache spread through her lower regions. Marshall let out his held breath in a whoosh, trying to keep control of his body. She felt incredibly...what? Just incredible. He had imagined this so many times, having her in his arms, kissing her, feeling her soft curves pressed against him. His hand tightened around her, itching to move up. Mary watched the emotions fly across his face, saw his struggle. She brought her lips to his ear, dropped her voice low.

"Do you want to touch me?" Marshall was rendered speechless, his eyes clouded with desire, his mind flooded with images of her body under his hands. "You can touch me if you want."

An invitation. She was giving him an invitation. Marshall eyes cleared and he carefully looked at her. "If I want?" he croaked out, "you have no idea." He hesitated, clearly torn between what he wanted to do and what he thought he should do. Mary felt his fingers clutched around her ribs, trembling, and reached down to take his hand, slowly drawing it up, until he gently, gently cupped her breast.

"Oh, I think I have an idea," she said softly as she held his palm against her. Mary's eyes closed and she gave herself up to the sensation of his fingers tenderly stroking, lifting, squeezing. A soft groan escaped him and he carefully rolled her onto her back, running both hands up underneath the t-shirt to feel her bare skin, to hold the weight of her in his palms.

"My God, you are so soft." His breath was coming faster. Mary smiled as she arched up into his hands.

"Aren't all women soft," she asked with a chuckle.

"Mmm...but you are exceptionally so. It's like my fingers are sinking right into you." He closed his large palms over her and leaned in to nuzzle her neck. "I'd like to sink all of me into you." He stilled as soon as the words left his mouth. _Did I really just say that out loud?_

"I think I'd like that too," Mary said, a touch of amusement in her voice, pulling his head down and kissing him, urging his mouth open. Mary kissed him breathless, until he pulled back and shakily pushed her back so he could see her face. _I'm in heaven, no, I'm in hell. She is offering me what I have wanted for so long. And I can't accept it. Not under these circumstances. Not without the words, the words that would tie her to me._

"Mary, no, not like this. I don't want to be driven by fear." He tucked her hair behind her ear and dappled his fingers across her cheek. "I want our first time to be special, with no overhanging worries, like men trying to kill you." He rested one hand on her hip and tangled the other with her left hand, bringing it up to hold between their bodies. Running his thumb lightly over her engagement ring, he murmured softly, "And you have to deal with this. You don't belong to me right now. I want to make love to you. But not until you belong to me."

Mary looked at her ring. Raph. She had completely forgotten about Raph. How could that be? She was ashamed of herself. Marshall was right. She didn't belong to him. Not yet. But she wanted to. She understood that now. She stroked his face with shaky fingers. No one cared for her like Marshall did. No one had her back like he did. No one understood her like he did. No one made her feel the way he did.

She brought her mouth up to his ear and whispered. "I want to belong to you."


	7. Chapter 7 Realizations

Chapter 7 - Realizations

Marshall carefully studied the three young men standing by the beat up Corolla that was to take them to Nashville. David, Matthew and Michael. _Did I ever look that young? _He had seen the expressions as he walked over. The 'Oh no, twelve hours with this old geezer?' look. Until he called Mary over from where she was waiting. Then he couldn't help but smile as the three young men straightened up, looked from her to him with expressions of disbelief, and visibly became more open and friendly. Introductions were made, everyone left it at first names only. As David and Michael loaded the bags in the trunk and Mary walked over to a trash bin to toss her water bottle, Matthew turned to Marshall and said wistfully, "Man, your old lady is smoking."

Marshall favored him with a smile, as he could hear the jostling between David and Michael regarding who was going to sit next to Mary. "Yes, she is," he said, watching her with longing and a touch of pride.

Open flirting broke out once Mary returned and they all piled in. Mary could easily handle these three college boys. They were nice and rather handsome, certainly had good bodies. _Who didn't at twenty? _But they were boys. She needed a man. She had a man she thought, glancing over at Marshall with a certain amount of warmth. Marshall finally put an end to the joshing with a friendly reminder that he was still in the car. It carried just a hint of warning, which all three picked up on and they backed off. David had won the coveted spot next to Mary and she got an enormous amount of information from him regarding Nashville and its environs.

They arrived at Nashville late in the evening and Michael asked if he could drop them somewhere. David had told her there were several hostels in the city. Mary asked to be dropped at the closest hostel. It would be a cheap nights stay and offered private rooms. Marshall slipped his arm around her waist as they waved goodbye and walked inside.

While Mary got ready for bed, Marshall went down to the lounge area and snagged one of the computers available for resident use. He found an email from Eleanor, which he printed out and checked for stories regarding the explosion at the airport. There was nothing, not even in the local Newark papers. He frowned. It was hard to keep something like that a secret.

He returned to their room and found Mary sitting on the bed, wearing his t-shirt. Waiting. For him. She had taken her braids out, and her hair cascaded down over her shoulders in golden waves. Every cell in Marshall's body came to alert. He approached her cautiously and sat down beside her, the sheets of paper in his hand trembling. She scooted next to him, so they were touching from shoulder to knee. Snatching the papers out of his hand, she quickly scanned through them. Green eyes flew up to meet blue eyes, both afraid.

"I have to turn myself in," Mary said in a whisper. "It's the only way I can get my side told." The story that Hauptner had put out there was outrageous, but in lieu of any facts to the contrary, was being accepted by the FBI, although the Marshal Service was more reluctant. But it looked bad that she was on the run. The undisputed facts were that the prisoner had escaped, there was a dead marshal, one marshal and two FBI agents were backing up Hauptner's story and Mary was in the wind. Warrants for Mary's arrest had been issued and the FBI and the Marshal Service were actively looking for her.

"We need to get to Stan, so he can be the one to go with you." Mary didn't even notice that he didn't protest her statement. They couldn't keep running, but turning herself in without some kind of witness was going to get her dead. She felt that in her bones. No one was going to believe her story that federal marshals were actively trying to put a bullet in her head. Once she was turned over to Hauptner though...she shuddered.

"Yes," she agreed, "Stan." Her hand crept down to grasp Marshall's.

Mary slept little, her mind refusing to let go of all the events of the last few days. Even with Marshall's arms securely around her, she was afraid. She suddenly thought of something she wanted to ask Marshall, but was reluctant to wake him. She shifted restlessly.

"Mary? You ok?" Marshall's deep voice rumbled in her ear. She shook her head no.

"Eleanor didn't say anything about the security camera."

"They probably don't have the tape yet, if there is one. She'll tell us if there are any new developments." He was worried. Mary never admitted to not being ok. Pressing a swift kiss to her forehead, he released her and got out of bed.

"I'm going down to send a message to George. Back in a few."

Mary had to suppress a rising well of panic. Everything was starting to crash down on her. And she missed Marshall. _This is ridiculous_. _He has been out of this bed for two minutes. How can I possibly miss him? _She certainly never missed Raph when he got out of her bed. Was usually glad when he left, truth be told. Lying by herself, one hand on the warm sheet where his very nicely shaped ass had been, she came face to face with a stark realization. _I love him. With every fiber of my being. I love Marshall. _There was no one she would rather spend time with, no one she trusted more, no one she had more respect for, no one else she let see her vulnerable. Love is wanting to be with someone, not wishing they would go away. Love is about more than the sex, great though it may be. She was happier lying in his arms fully clothed, than she was with Raph 'in delicto flagrante'_. Love is this feeling I have when I look at him._

She pulled her engagement ring off, placed it on the bedside table. Raph was a good man who sincerely loved her. She didn't want to cause him pain, but he wasn't the right man for her. That was the man who had been by her side for the last four years. Her partner, her friend. She wished she had her notebook pad. Right after 'clear self of murder' and 'take down Hauptner and O'Connor', she would have to write 'break up with Raph'.

Marshall returned and quietly slid back into bed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. He slowly put his arms around her, sensing something had changed, but unsure what it could possibly be. Mary in his arms he would take for any reason though.

Marshall had another message from Eleanor when he checked in the morning. _Damn, George must realize something serious is up. He had to have contacted Stan in the middle of the night._ Stan was scheduled to travel to Houstonto hand off a witness that was being relocated. He planned to take a flight from Houston to Nashville and hoped to stay one step ahead of the FBI until he could get to Mary. He would escort her to the local marshals office. Eleanor had sent a cryptic sentence, based on one of Marshall's word games, indicating where they should meet him. He laughed as he read it. He hadn't realized Eleanor was paying that close of attention to him. He mainly spouted those things out to annoy Mary. Then he sobered. Eleanor must be concerned about the emails being intercepted.

They decided it was safer to just stay in their room until check out time. After showering and dressing, they sat together on the unmade bed, each lost in their own thoughts. Marshall knew he would be separated from her. Mary knew she needed to tell him before they left this room.

"You know I suck at the touchy-feely stuff," she said without preamble. He looked at her in mild surprise. "It's just you won't get to go on the all expense paid federally funded trip I'll be taking later today and I need you to know." She stopped, suddenly tongue-tied. _Spit it out. Three little words. You can do this. You've been using your words for thirty-six years._ Marshall waited expectantly. As the silence stretched out, he cocked his head to the side, taking in the fact that she was sweating. There was something she obviously wanted to say, but it was killing her to do so. He placed his large hand on her thigh, spreading his fingers, and squeezed, the warmth suffusing her.

"Trust me." A simple statement, but it focused her. Yes, she could trust Marshall with anything, even this most precious and fragile knowledge.

"I love you." Her statement hung in the air between them. "I love you as my best friend, I love you as my partner, I love you in the want to get horizontal sense. I love you Marshall." No going back now, she thought as she searched his face for a reaction. A big, goofy grin spread across his face.

"How could you resist the tsunami wave I was sending your way?" He leaned over to gently kiss her. ""Plus, I'm adorable." She rolled her eyes. He nuzzled her neck, brought his lips up to her ear. "I love you too, I have for a long time."


	8. Chapter 8 Oh the Webs we Weave

Chapter 8 – Oh the Webs we Weave

They met Stan in the cafe of the main library. Stan's relief was evident on his face as he grasped both their hands. He stood back and looked at them. The fear and tension were palpable, but there was something else underneath it. He couldn't quite place it, then took in the fact that Marshall's arm was resting lightly on Mary's shoulders. There was a hint of the possessive about it. And Mary wasn't shrugging it off. It was contentment he could feel, with each other at least. Obviously their relationship had changed over the last few days. Bone chilling fear can do that, bringing what is important to the surface. Well, that was an issue he would have to deal with later.

They sat down with coffees and Stan laid out the game plan. They would all go to the marshal's office. Stan would formally turn Mary in, and as a chief inspector in the Marshal Service, he would petition to stay with her, maybe even escort her back to Newark. Marshall he advised to keep a low profile. He wasn't sure exactly how much trouble Marshall was in, as he hadn't technically broken any laws, but he had known the whereabouts of a fugitive, and as a federal employee was obligated to turn her in.

"But Stan, the whole thing was a setup!" Mary exploded. "Marshall was trying to keep me alive!" Marshall's hand came down on her arm very lightly and she took a deep breath and visibly calmed herself. "What about the security tape from the terminal?"

Stan blew out his cheeks. "There is a tape. It had been turned over to the local police department. They received a demand from the FBI for it. New Jersey FBI office has it now." Mary's face fell.

"It'll never see the light of day Stan. Not if it captured any of the important stuff."

"Which is why I requested and received a copy of the tape made from their backups that are archived every night. Seems I was just ahead of the FBI on that one. I received a phone call from a very irate Agent Gies, demanding I turn the tape over to him. I politely declined. Turns out he works for O'Connor. This thing is starting to unravel. I've seen the tape and I believe it will have you cleared in about two hours. We just have to get it in front of the right people."

"I want O'Connor to go down for this Stan. Either directly or indirectly, he is trying to get me killed."

******

Mary and Stan walked into the Nashville Marshal Service office, Marshall trailing behind them. He waited in the reception area for them, while Mary gave herself up. After an hour Stan came back out and spoke to him briefly. He was going to fly with Mary up to Newark. One of the Nashville marshals would accompany them. Marshall was to return to Albuquerque and stay out of view of the FBI agent camped out in the office.

He was allowed a few brief minutes with Mary before they took her away. He leaned down to whisper in her ear and dropped a light kiss on her lips. Stan took her arm and led her outside to the waiting car, Marshal Stevens following closely behind them. Mary smiled to herself as Marshall's whispered words ran through her head. _Try not to piss anybody off Sunshine. I'll be waiting for you. I love you. _She felt a wave of warmth spread through her as those lovely words filled her ears.

The flight was uneventful and the drive from the airport to the FBI office was silent. Stan kept a light hand on Mary's elbow as they were greeted by Agent Meckler and escorted to an interrogation room. After they were seated, Agent Meckler looked at Mary and said without preamble, "So, let's hear your version of the events at the airport."

Mary gave him a hard, assessing look, then took a deep breath. She quickly outlined the events at the airport and their attempts to evade their pursuers. She paused, crossed her arms across her chest and waited. Agent Meckler sat back in his chair, gave her a considering look while tapping his fingers on the table between them.

"Keep doing that and I'll break your fingers," she snapped, as the silence extended into several minutes. Meckler stilled his fingers and chuckled.

"They were right about you," he said, as Mary's eyes narrowed. "Right. What do you know about Marshal Hauptner and Agent O'Connor?" Mary gave him the synopsis of the information they had discovered about Hauptner and his connections to O'Connor. Meckler nodded as she spoke.

"Ok, Miss Shannon." Mary cut him off and barked, "It's Marshal Shannon." She drew herself up proudly. It was an honor to wear that title. Meckler looked at her with a touch of amusement and nodded.

"Marshal Shannon," he conceded, " we are going to need to formally take your statement. I will send someone in with the forms shortly. McQueen, a word please." He nodded towards the door. Stan stood up and followed him out of the room. They stood outside the interrogation room, Stan with his arms crossed, Meckler rubbing his forehead.

"This whole thing stinks 10 ways to Sunday. There is absolutely no motive for Marshal Shannon to have assisted the escape of the prisoner or to kill Marshal Lambert. Ballistics shows the bullet that killed Lambert did not come from Marshal Shannon's weapon. Which brings up a strange thing. The gun that was turned in by Hauptner as Mary's does not match the registration to her weapon. Ballistics shows the gun turned in did kill Lambert, but it isn't Mary's. And as far as the prisoner goes, Hauptner and Agent Gies are claiming gross incompetence on your marshal's part. I've reviewed her service record, and quite frankly, I don't believe that. Agent O'Connor has inserted himself in the middle of this, and there is no reason for him to be involved. I am well aware of his previous run-ins with Marshal Shannon and her family and the ass whupping he took at her hands, metaphorically of course. I'm getting a whiff of payback, and I don't like it."

Stan silently listened as Meckler spoke. He and Mary had agreed to keep mum about the security tape copy for the time being. Mary was hoping for a chance at O'Connor and Hauptner and felt they were more likely to put their foot in it, if they were in the dark on the tape. He cleared his throat.

"Well, I believe the information Mary gave you regarding the connection between those two speaks for itself." Meckler nodded.

"Yes, the problem is I have sworn statements from one other U.S. Marshal and two FBI agents regarding the events at that airport. And I have an ADA that is breathing fire. He is livid about a traitorous U.S. Marshal."

"I agree there is a traitor, but it isn't Mary."

Meckler shoved his hands in his pockets and studied the short man in front of him. He had looked up Stan's service record also and knew he would go to the mat for the people under his charge.

"O'Connor wants to question Marshal Shannon. He shouldn't have a dog in this fight, but I'm inclined to let him. I feel I should inform you we are on the verge of opening an internal investigation into Agent O'Connor."

Stan digested this new information and smiled. "You're thinking of giving him enough rope to hang himself by letting him interview Mary?"

Meckler nodded. "There is no valid reason he should have for wanting to question her, except for past history. He's hot headed enough to trip himself up. Plus I think I would rather enjoy seeing your marshal put him in his place." They both chuckled. You have no idea, Stan thought.

Mary was kept impatiently waiting for another two hours for Agent O'Connor to come to interrogation. She was standing with her arms crossed, a smirk on her face when he finally entered the room.

"Hello asshole. Wish I could say it's been too long. I hear from your friend Hauptner that you wanted to talk to me." O'Connor didn't look at her while he placed a file and a cup of coffee on the table. He pulled his chair out and sat down.

Glancing up at her, he said curtly, "Sit down." Mary stubbornly remained standing.

O'Connor shrugged. "Suit yourself. You couldn't help it I suppose. You come from bad blood. It was inevitable that you would break the law sooner or later, follow in Daddy's footsteps."

Mary literally saw red, felt her hands flex with the urge to put them around his neck. She opened her mouth to retort, then heard Marshall's voice in her head. _Try not to piss anybody off Sunshine. _She needed to keep control of herself for the greater purpose of nailing O'Connor. And since Marshall wasn't here to rein her in, she would have to do it herself. She looked up to see him smirking at her.

"What's your connection to Hauptner? How did you end up involved in this sordid little episode O'Connor? I don't get it. I mean I understand Hauptner's motivation, but why are you involved?"

"My only involvement will be the pleasure of slapping cuffs on you and putting you in jail."

"Oh, come on O'Connor. I know you were in on Hauptner's little bait and switch scheme. But why would you risk your career and jail time yourself? There has to be more to it than wanting revenge against me. Even you can't be that stupid. Wait a minute, oh yeah, that's right, you slept with a married colleague's wife and as a result he ended up dead instead of you. Maybe you can be that stupid." He shot her a hostile glare and slid a piece of paper in front of her.

"Your confession. Sign it and maybe I won't reinstate charges against your sister. Oh, and you can be sure we will be going after your partner also, as an accessory."

Mary barely glanced at the paper. She should have seen this coming. "So, please, tell me, what is Hauptner's version of events?"

He folded his hands in front of him and leaned forward. "Through sheer incompetence on your part, when the prisoner Malone was handed off to you, he was able to get away, get out of his cuffs and escape to a single engine aircraft on the tarmac. In the ensuing shoot-out you shot and killed Marshal Lambert who was trying to apprehend the prisoner. It may have been deliberate, in an effort to facilitate the prisoner's escape."

Mary's incredulous face gave him a certain amount of pleasure. "We are contacting Marshal Hauptner right now, so he can officially arrest you and take you into custody."

"Let me make sure I understand this numbnuts. You are saying that after coming up here under duress, I decided to help a prisoner whose name I didn't even know, to escape and deliberately shot a fellow marshal in the process. I suppose I somehow magically arranged for the plane and a pilot to be there too, to whisk the prisoner off?"

"You are not going to wiggle out of this one Mary Shannon. I've seen to that." There it is, Mary thought. That's what I need.

"Stan," she called out, "I'm done." A minute later Stan and Meckler entered the interrogation room, Meckler shooting a look of undisguised dislike at O'Connor. She nodded at Stan. "Let's end this charade." Stan pulled out the DVD that had been made of the security tape and held it up.

"Security footage taken from the cargo terminal. I think you will find it very interesting viewing." He handed it to Meckler, who slipped it into the laptop he brought in with him. Mary glanced at O'Connor and frowned. He didn't look anywhere near worried enough. Then a thought struck her – he maybe doesn't know what happened. Hauptner may have lied to him. Oh, this was going to be good.

The tape unfolded and was met with three grim faces and one dumbfounded one. Even without sound, it was clear Malone wasn't cuffed, he was deliberately shoved into Mary and the gunshots were meant to cause confusion, not hit Malone. When the second vehicle pulled up, O'Connor's jaw hit the ground. "Who the hell are those guys?" It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Hauptner could be seen forcing Mary to release Malone and allowing the plane to take off.

Mary's mouth tightened as the man behind Marshall hit him on the head and he went down. Meckler's mouth had tightened also.

"Agent O'Connor, you're done here. Make yourself available to me first thing in the morning. There are a lot of questions I will have for you, starting with just how you have seen to Marshal Shannon 'not wiggling out of this one'."

O'Connor was practically stuttering, trying to get some kind of explanation out. Meckler cut him off. "Save it for tomorrow. You can leave now. And by the way, we haven't been able to contact Hauptner." He fixed him with a hard stare and let that sink in.

O'Connor walked out on shaky legs and Mary turned to Meckler. "Think you FBI assholes can get that warrant dropped now?" Her eyes were snapping fire, but he didn't seem to notice. Agent Meckler was staring off into the distance, obviously trying to work something out.

"Where did you get this tape from? We don't have a copy of it." He sounded worried.

Stan took a certain amount of pleasure in answering. "Actually, you do. Your Agent Gies obtained the original that had been turned over to the local police department after the explosion. I got a copy from the back up tape. Agent Gies tried to acquire my copy and I think you'll find that he has confiscated the backup from the cargo company's archives also." Meckler rubbed his forehead, unpleasant possibilities chasing themselves through his brain.

"The tall fellow on the tape, that was down on the ground, that's your partner?"

Mary's expression softened. "Yes, Marshall Mann."

"And where is he at right now? We're going to need to talk to him also." Stan supplied the information. Meckler looked dourly at the two of them.

"Our investigation has been compromised. Agent Gies has been assigned as part of the task force looking into O'Connor." He held up a finger as Mary opened her mouth. "Hold your questions for just a minute. I'm going to go start the paperwork to drop the warrant and I need to pull Gies' personnel file." He left the room and Mary looked at Stan with a big smile.

"Maybe I'll get to sleep in my own bed tonight." Stan turned a speculative eye on her. He may an oblivious goober most of the time, but the growing feelings between his two inspectors hadn't escaped him.

"And just where have you been sleeping the last few nights?" He asked the question nonchalantly, trying to keep the curiosity out of his voice. Mary started to tell him to mind his own business, but stopped short, realizing all this was going to come out anyway in her statement. She studied the file in front of her that O'Connor had left on the table, avoiding his eyes.

"Nashville last night, North Carolina night before, we were on a bus night before that, Jersey Shore night before that." Four nights with Marshall, she thought. So much has changed in just four nights. The alarming thought occurred to her that if she did get to sleep in her own bed tonight, Raph would be in it. She shook her head. No. She would have to dislodge him from her bed, her house, her life. How was she going to explain this to him? She looked down at her bare finger and stiffened. _Oh my God, what did I do with the ring?_


	9. Chapter 9 You Are My Sunshine

***And so we come to the end. Thanks for reading everyone. I have appreciated all the kind comments. Thanks once again to Bujyo for beta reading and for her suggestions***

* * *

Chapter 9 – You Are My Sunshine

Meckler returned with several large files and two cans of soda. Spreading out the files on the table, he looked up at the two marshals.

"Let me formally offer you my apologies on behalf of the FBI for what you have been put through, Marshal Shannon. You will be free to go shortly. In the meantime, I have the files here for O'Connor and Gies. We were already aware of a connection between O'Connor and Hauptner. They had worked a bust together a couple years ago. There is nothing unusual about that. Then several weeks ago Hauptner contacted O'Connor regarding a prisoner transfer. We can only surmise the content of the discussion at this point, but I think it's safe to say he recommended you be assigned the transfer as some sort of personal payback. His run-ins with you are legendary around here. Hauptner's intent was to spring Malone, but somebody had to take the fall for that. We have done some digging and learned Hauptner was in hock to him for $50,000."

He pulled the Gies file out and handed it to Mary. "Imagine my surprise when viewing the security tape to see Agent Gies participating in a manner that had little resemblance to his official report of the incident. We have only just started looking at Gies, but we have already learned that he knew Hauptner prior to coming to work for the FBI. He was one of the guys that pulled up in the second vehicle."

Stan was thoughtful a moment, then offered an opinion. "You may want to take a discreet look at your ADA also. He was quite adamant about Mary coming up here, and apparently got on to my bosses at the Marshal Service to make sure it happened."

Meckler nodded and said distastefully, "It just keeps getting better and better."

He sat back in his chair and fixed his gaze on Mary. "Hauptner's in the wind. I'll need specifics of where you saw the men pursuing you, how you think they tracked you, and where you went after the last sighting. I think it's reasonable to assume Hauptner may know you have been brought in, but he may not. There hasn't been any contact from him since yesterday morning."

Mary gave him a detailed itinerary of their movements over the last few days. "We caught a ride to Nashville with some college students, so I don't think we could have been easily followed, but those men did seem ingenious at tracking us." She tapped the screen of the laptop. "It was the tall, dark guy and the blond, husky one that came after us. Either of them belong to you?"

Meckler shook his head, pointed out Gies on the screen, Mr. Nondescript. "He's ours. We're working on identifying the others."

They reviewed the files, looking for any connection between Gies and O'Connor. Stan put in a call to Marshall, requesting he fly up to Newark so Agent Meckler could take his statement. After assuring him that Mary was OK, he snapped his phone shut.

"Marshall will be here in the morning," he said, smiling at the obvious relief on Mary's face.

"Now I just need to get sprung from here and it will be a satisfying end to the day," she muttered.

************

Mary waited impatiently for Marshall to arrive. She was a bit unnerved by how much she missed his calm and familiar presence. She had to restrain herself from jumping up and running over to him when he was shown into the interrogation room. Marshall grinned broadly and crossed over to her, taking her hand and squeezing it.

"Are you OK?" She nodded and squeezed back. Meckler gestured him to a chair and they all sat down.

Marshall drew out a file from his briefcase and his face sobered. He lifted the file up and held Meckler's gaze.

"Our office administrator, Eleanor, she's pretty amazing. She has all kinds of contacts within the FBI, Marshal Service, ATF, hell, probably the CIA. She's a whiz on the computer. She has been able to find some pretty interesting information and put this file together for us." He glanced down at the sheets in the file.

Meckler eyed him uneasily. Marshall brought his gaze up to meet Meckler's. "I'm pretty sure none of this is going to make you happy."

Meckler waved him on. Marshall tossed a smile towards Mary, took a deep breath and started in.

"OK, who shall I start with? Let's just go chronologically. Agent Hauptner we know has a gambling problem. He owed money to the subject of your prisoner transfer, Malone, to the tune of $50,000. Malone had already sent one of his 'employees' to see Hauptner regarding his debt. Malone's impending imprisonment wasn't going to make the debt disappear. Fearing for his personal safety, he came to an arrangement with Malone. In exchange for forgiveness of the debt, Hauptner would see to it Malone got sprung, Hauptner has a history with O'Connor, predating his tenure with the Marshal Service." Marshall glanced up and saw he had the full attention of everyone in the room. He returned to his notes.

"Hauptner contacted O'Connor looking for help. O'Connor was able to get Hauptner assigned to the transfer. How, you may ask? Seems that Agent Gies, who is a friend of O'Connor's, had come into possession of some sensitive information regarding your ADA, Jerry Sellers. A well placed comment to Sellers resulted in Hauptner's assignment to the transfer. The plan was put in place but a fall guy, or gal, was needed. O'Connor's well known hatred for Mary lent itself wonderfully to the plan. Sellers was more than happy to lend his weight to the pressure to get Mary up here." Marshall paused as he considered his next words carefully.

"There is no evidence that Sellers knew there was going to be an escape facilitated, but we do know he was eager to avoid any word getting out regarding his marital infidelity with an underage girl." Meckler groaned. "Jerry Sellers put the pressure on Stan's superiors to get Mary assigned to the transfer. He may have simply not asked any questions when asked for a favor by Gies."

Meckler held his hand out for the file. "We know Hauptner's motivation and O'Connor's, the question mark is Gies."

Mary tilted her head back, brow furrowed in thought. "Hauptner needed to pay off his debt to Malone, O'Connor was just looking for some payback. Gies, he was the one that had the goods on Sellers. I'd like to know how he came by that. Maybe there was some kind of payoff involved. Could have been simply a crime of opportunity. He had something to hold over Sellers, who knows when that could come in handy, plus O'Connor would owe him."

Meckler sighed. "O'Connor has clammed up. I didn't get squat out of him this morning. The internal investigation is official now. Hauptner is MIA. And Gies didn't show up to work this morning. On a positive note, we have good information on Malone's whereabouts. We expect to have him back in custody by the end of the day. If he talks, a lot of this will be cleared up."

After Marshall gave his statement, he and Mary were cleared to leave. Meckler promised to keep them apprised of all new developments.

***************

Marshall went back to the hotel with Mary, after agreeing to meet Stan at the airport for their flight back to Albuquerque that evening. She unlocked the door, staggered into the room and collapsed onto the bed, feeling weary down to her bones. There were too many emotions swirling through her – anger, fear, relief. She didn't know what to feel. The bed dipped as Marshall laid down beside her and lightly took her hand. He was silent but supportive, as always. She added another emotion to the maelstrom inside her - gratitude. Gratitude to the man beside her. She turned her head to look at him. Affection and love. She felt those things for him too.

She rolled onto her side and wrapped an arm around his waist. Marshall smoothed his hand through her hair and kissed her forehead.

"I'm glad you're here," she mumbled into his chest. "I tried really hard not to piss anyone off ...for you." She knew he was smiling without looking at him. He pressed another kiss on top of her head.

"That's my girl."

He sighed into her ear, the moist warmth sending a tingle down Mary' spine.

"I missed you last night. My arms were empty." He tightened his fingers around hers and ran his other hand down her side, coming to rest on her hip.

Mary tilted her head back to look up at him and gave him a tight smile. "I'm not looking forward to tonight. When we get back, I have to break off my engagement to Raph." She dropped her eyes and chewed on her bottom lip, dreading the scene to come. Marshall lifted her chin with one long finger and rubbed his thumb whisper light over her lip, so she would stop worrying it. His eyes met hers and she shivered at the spark she saw in their depths.

Marshall leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, inhaling her breath as she exhaled. His hand tightened on her hip and he closed his eyes. He captured her lips with his, softly exploring. Mary responded in kind, both of them knowing it wasn't going to go much farther than this, _at least not for now._

Mary broke the kiss and ran her hand up Marshall's cheek. She loved the way he let her explore him, without demand, without rushing her. Her fingers traced his jaw, feathered over his cheek. That spark was still in his eye and Mary got a mischievous gleam in her own eyes. She rolled onto her back and raised her arms above her head, clasping her hands together behind her head. The movement thrust her breasts up prominently, straining against the form fitting top she wore. She smiled provocatively. Marshall had stopped breathing.

"Preview of coming attractions," she whispered. A wicked grin split his face as he bent down to nuzzle her neck.

"I'd like an advance ticket please," he murmured, cupping her breast with a feather light touch. Stroking his thumb over the soft swell of bare flesh spilling out above her low cut top, Marshall had to remind himself to keep it under control. She didn't belong to him yet, but soon...

Mary smiled in response to the smile that flitted across his face. She wasn't used to playing any kind of passive role in lovemaking, but this was very nice, just reveling in the feel of his hands on her. Marshall ever so slowly lowered his head until Mary felt the moist heat of his mouth pressing a gentle kiss on her breast. A shudder passed through her and she pulled his head up to kiss him again, then pushed him back regretfully.

"Unfortunately, there is no advance screening for tonight." They looked at each other, before breaking out in laughter, both cognizant of the promise to come. Marshall swung his lanky frame up from the bed and extended his hand out to her.

"Come on Sunshine, we need to get to the airport." Mary felt that warmth that was becoming familiar. No one besides Marshall would consider her as a ray of sunshine. But she brought joy to his life. _I have never done that before, made someone happy just by being me._

They met Stan at the airport and had an uneventful journey back to Albuquerque. After a brief stop at the office, where Eleanor handed Marshall four messages from George with a lift of an eyebrow, Marshall steered Mary out to his GMC. They rode in companionable silence back to Mary's house. Mary kept glancing over at Marshall, the sharp planes of his face bringing a smile to hers.

Marshall pulled up in front of her house and ventured a quick look at her. So much had changed since the last time she was here. Mary sat quietly, eying the house with distaste. She didn't want to deal with the unpleasantness to come, but she needed to break it off with Raph and quickly. It was necessary so she could move forward, _so we can move forward. _Marshall was worth some discomfort.

She rubbed her bare ring finger. Mary didn't know how to explain to Raph she had lost his ring. She closed her eyes. What could she possibly say? Marshall watched her sympathetically. He knew how much she was dreading facing Raph. He couldn't help her with that, just offer his silent support. He felt for Raph, knowing the man truly loved Mary, but at the end of the day, Mary wasn't going to be turning to Raph. He felt a warmth at that thought.

"I have to go in and give back the ring that I don't have." She dropped her head in her hands with a groan.

He watched her screw up her resolve and laid a gentle hand on her arm as he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a handkerchief. He silently handed it to her. Mary's eyebrow shot up as she considered the knotted linen. _Marshall must be the only man under sixty who carries an actual handkerchief. _It was rather endearing. It appeared to be clean, so she loosened the knot and opened the handkerchief to find her engagement ring nestled inside.

She looked up in amazement. "How?" she asked, clutching the ring. "I thought I lost it."

Marshall smiled. "You left it on the nightstand in Nashville. I thought you might want it." Mary nodded, relief flooding through her.

"Thank you Marshall. I need to give this back to Raph. I didn't know how I was going to tell him I lost it." She turned a brilliant smile on him.

He considered her a moment, his breath taken away by her beauty and leaned over to drop a kiss on her cheek.

"I hope the next time I hand you a ring you smile as big as you are right now," he spoke close to her ear in a low voice. Mary placed her hand on his cheek and chuckled, a wave of happiness rolling through her.

"Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet."

The End


End file.
